


... One Mage will rise

by Nindemon



Series: When darkness falls... [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Tragedy, Violence, description of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nindemon/pseuds/Nindemon
Summary: Kirana Trevelyan has seen more than her fair share of grief in the war between Mages and Templars. She has seen the worst of what the Templars can do.She would never fall in love with a bloody Templar… absolutely out of the question.***I cannot see the path.Perhaps there is only abyss.Trembling, I step forwardIn darkness enveloped.*****Rewritten version of ‘Like Sun and Moon’The Story will differ from the original manuscript and will be continued further





	1. How it all began...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there,
> 
> Welcome to the reworked version of ‘Like Sun and Moon’
> 
> I had to rewrite the original in order to continue on with the story. ( And because I made a ton of mistakes in the first version… ) The first version will remain on this site, simply because it was the first piece I’ve ever written and I am still proud of it. That is also why I left it untouched. I am still far from perfect but I hope you will enjoy reading this one too.

  
  


**Chapter 1 How it all began…**

  
  


It all happened too fast. 

 

Kira reached up to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand when she tasted the coppery tang of blood on her tongue. 

 

The tall man in his shining armour, the Templar, standing in front of her,  raised his shield above his head to block off the next attack of the overlarge pride demon ahead. He grunted with the effort to keep his shield in place when the sizzling whip made of pure lightning crashed against the metal.

 

She heard the crunching noise of his heavy boots against the uneven stone beneath when the sheer force of the impact shoved him backwards. To her surprise, he held his ground against the strike. He must be strong, even for a Templar.

 

The demon howled, a sound of outrage that reverberated from the walls of the blackened ruins that once was the Temple of Sacred Ashes. An arrow shaft, imbedded deeply in the flesh of his right shoulder. It lunged at the attacker and Kira made out a light figure with short cropped red hair. 

 

Liliana, her long bow still at the ready almost danced out of reach of its viciously sharp claws and the demon howled again in frustration when he missed his target. 

 

Kira looked up at the wide looming rift dangling over their heads. The bright green light that tinged the ruins bellow into a sickening green colour, nauseated her.

 

_ This has to end. One way or another… _

 

She felt sore from the fight, her muscles were tired and her head was spinning from the sharp impact that had thrown her backwards into the crumbling stonewall. Her strength was leaving her and she wished she could just lay down, close her eyes and forget everything that had happened in the past hours, in the past year, and sleep for a week or a month.

 

She felt so tired of it all. 

 

The Mark on her left hand tingled and itched and she glanced down at her dirt covered hand, at the thin green lines covering her palm. The unfamiliar magic ran through her veins like poison and she recoiled inwardly from this abomination on her hand. 

 

It felt wrong, completely out of tune with her own magic. Its song irritated her with its discords and disharmonies, but if she wanted or not, it was the only chance she had to close that big green thing over her head. She had to try at least. She couldn’t just sit here and let the others do the fighting and the dying for her.

 

She tried to stand up but her legs gave way under her and she slumped back against the wall, a sharp sting of pain running through her chest and she hissed. Tentatively touching her right side, she guessed that she had at least one or two cracked ribs. It couldn’t be helped. 

 

She closed her eyes against the pain and concentrated on her breathing, wishing, not for the first time in her life, that her healing magic would work on her as well as others, but it wouldn’t. So she kept on breathing evenly until the pain slowly ebbed and became bearable. 

 

She felt something move in front of her and opened her eyes to find a huge gauntleted hand, palm pointing upwards in front of her face. The Templar had turned towards her, his hand extended to help her up. 

 

She squinted up at him. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the sickening green light and standing so close he seemed even taller than before. She saw his sweat drenched blond curls plastered against his forehead and neck, his golden eyes regarded her with a look of concern. He was very handsome for a Templar, but that was usually the worst kind. 

 

_ Devils in armour. That’s what they are. _

 

“Are you alright?” he asked concerned, his pleasantly low voice inlaid with a faint ferelden accent.

 

She glanced down at his hand and back up to his face, her lips curling into a snarl, baring her teeth.

 

The sight of him looming over her like this triggered an unpleasant memory. Sounds of terrible screaming and wicked laughter filled her ears, and she hastily shut down the upwelling images that threatened to take form before her inner eye. She could not however, nor did she want to, stop the feeling that accompanied this particular memory. The pulsating heat of anger and rage that rushed through her veins as hot as fire, eradicating her weariness and burning away every thought she might have had of giving up. She drew on this emotion, letting it fill her from the depths of her core to her tingling skin.

 

If she had to die today, than she _ would die  _ standing on her feet with her head held high and fighting to her last breath, not kneeling at the feet of a  _ bloody Templar _ !

 

She ignored his hand and reached for her plain wooden staff instead. She clenched her teeth as she rose to her feet, not allowing herself to lean on it. She couldn't show weakness or pain, not in front of a Templar.

 

She wasn’t a small woman but when she had managed to straighten herself up to her full height the Templar was still a head or so taller than her. 

 

Her legs trembled with the effort to keep her upright and she swayed slightly while concentrating to regain her balance despite the throbbing pain in her back and sides. The Templar reached out to catch her by the elbow to steady her, but she flinched back before he could touch her.

 

“Don't touch me!” she hissed through gritted teeth, glaring up at him through narrowed eyes. “Ever!”

 

A startled expression crossed over his handsome features and his eyes widened a fraction in surprise of her hostile reaction towards his well meant gesture.

 

“Now get out of my way Templar!” she snarled.

 

His golden eyes regarded her intently as he stiffened at her words, a hard look setting over his features. Templars in general weren’t used to mages ordering commands much less growl at them and this one had the air of authority around him as he pulled himself up to his full height.

 

_ Try as you might, you won’t intimidate me!  _

 

She lifted her chin in defiance, daring him to stop her as she stepped past him without another word. He looked like he wanted to say something but she wasn’t interested in him anymore her attention was already focused on the wildly thrashing Pride Demon in front of her. 

 

She breathed in deeply, letting the anger inside her inflame her magic. He didn’t know of course, but he had actually helped her by making her angry. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to do what she was about to do next.

 

She moved forward as the magic began to flow through her entire body and she embraced it with every fibre of her being. She let it run freely and it enveloped her fully from head to toe. She felt the fire, the ice and the storm that build inside her.

 

She quickened her steps, feeling the uneven ground under her leather boots while whirling her staff around her in graceful movements. The tip of it lit up in bright blue flames. She felt the eyes of everyone in the ruins fixing upon her, but she ignored the startled looks and shouts, her concentration solely fixed on the looming demon.

 

The demon turned as if he’d felt her coming. Its sharp eyes focusing on her and a wicked grin formed on his muzzle, exposing the yellow sharp fangs of his teeth. She returned that grin in kind.

 

_ Oh you big lumpy brute, you have no idea what I am, do you. _

 

Everyone in her path hurriedly scurried out of the way as she charged toward the demon. When everyone was far enough away to see it, she let her eyes lit up and saw the flicker of recognition cross over the demon's snarling features.

 

_ Now you know you ugly beast, you should have killed me when you had the chance. _

 

Her grin widened as the demon turned to face her fully, a challenging howl coming from its gruesome snout. She didn’t slow down nor did she flinch as the long sizzling whip came down on her. She felt the electricity buzzing and crackling through the air as it missed her face by only an inch.

 

She kept her focus on the magic that surrounded her in waves of fire and ice, the tip of her staff glowing with dazzling intensity.

 

She was fire and ice equally measured.

 

When the song of her magic finally reached its crescendo she lifted the staff over her head and slammed it down into the ground.

 

A thundering boom echoed from the scorched walls as a shockwave erupted from her staff rushing towards the demon. It clashed against its form like storm waves against a mountain. 

 

The Pride Demon staggered backwards, his cries of outrage quickly turning into agonized howls of pain. Overwhelmed by the force of her powers it dropped to one knee, it's huge shoulders slumped in defeat while ashes began to rise from its form and disappear into the looming fade rift.  

 

“NOW--Close the rift!” she heard Solas’s shout.

 

Kira turned and raised her left hand with the greenish mark, palm pointing toward the huge rift above.

 

She felt the strange new magic spring to live within her, intermixing with her own. It was almost too much. She’d never wielded such an amount of sheer power all at once. Every muscle in her body vibrating with energy, the singing of her magic was almost deafening in her ears. Her skin tingled like thousands of insects were crawling all over her. She felt like bursting any second if she didn’t release it soon.

 

Unable to keep it back any longer she released her grip on it and willed it against the rift.

 

It broke free, rushing out of her like a hurricane. It clashed against the rift with a tremendous force that shook the earth beneath her feet. It nearly tore her apart but she kept holding on, feeding it with more of her energy.

 

The rift began to brighten intensely, pulsating like a beating heart. 

 

Still she held on… 

 

It flickered.

 

She felt the strength leaving her muscles her breathing became ragged as she tried to suck in more air into her burning lungs. Her body felt drained, weakened to the point of failing to keep her upright. 

 

_ It's not enough… _

 

In a last attempt and with a cry leaving her lips she threw every remaining strength she had left into her magic and with a thundering boom the rift finally exploded.

 

Relief washed over her and she sank to her knees unable to keep herself upright any longer.

 

_ It's done. _

 

She thought last before drifting over into blissful darkness.

 

____

 

The shock wave erupting from the exploding rift send everyone inside the ruins to the ground.

 

Cullen was flung backwards, feeling the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he connected hard with the stony ground. His longsword, knocked out of his hand, skittered over the uneven earth.

  
  


He lay on his back, a loud ringing in his ears, caused by the explosion, muffled all the sounds around him. He panted for air as the white dots circling before his vision started to fade and he blinked rapidly at the already clearing sky. The rift that had spewed out demons by the dozens was gone completely but the wide green Breach remained visible miles above. It seemed calmer however, having lost most of its intense green light.

 

_ She’d done it.  _

 

He rolled onto his side with an audible grunt, letting his gaze sweep over the former battlefield in the middle of the blackened ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

 

Cullen saw the people around him slowly rising to their feet, pointing to the sky and whispering among themselves, the looks of relief and awe visible in their wide eyes and dirty faces. 

 

He spotted Cassandra and Varric on the other side of the battlefield, both with similar looks on their battleworn features.

 

His eyes found Leliana as she was reaching out a hand to help Solas back to his feet. He saw the elf hesitate for a moment regarding her long fingered hand before he sized it and swung himself up to his feet in a graceful motion that was solely reserved for the elven race.

He heard excited whispers coming from the man and women around him, which quickly turned into relieved laughter and shouts of triumph mingled with hope. 

 

“The RIFT!! It's GONE… praise the Maker!!”

 

Cullen felt a smile spreading over his lips as the shock slowly faded and the relieve settled over him. 

 

She’d done it! She’d closed the rift! She’d given them hope. Hope he hadn’t dared to think about until now.

 

His eyes began to search the floor beneath the spot where the rift had been only moments before. Half expecting her to stand there as he had seen her on the battlefield. Her chin held high, body surrounded by swirling energy, with brilliantly red hair flowing around her slender shoulders like flames in stark contrast to her piercing blue eyes the color of a frozen lake in midwinter. 

 

She was an incredibly gifted mage judging by the way his templar senses had positively screamed ‘danger’ at him when he’d felt the magic she’d flung against the Rift and it had taken all of his self control not to act on his instincts and do something very stupid like silencing her in the middle of it.

 

He spotted her then, laying motionless on the ground beneath chunks of broken earth, dust and debris right in front of the huge stonewall in the middle of the ruins.

 

His heart stopped and all thoughts of dangerous mages left his mind as he scrambled to his feet hurrying over to the small figure. He stumbled several times over stones and chunks of dirt in his haste to get to her side. As he reached her slender form seconds later he skidded to a stop, dropping down onto his knees beside her.

 

She lay on her side one arm outstretched in front of her the other behind her back, long deep red curls covering her face. The wooden mage staff she’d used lay beside her, shattered into bits and pieces.

 

Cullen pulled of his metal gloves and reached out a hand to uncover her face, silently praying to the Maker that she was alive. He hesitated before his fingers touched her hair, her clear voice ringing inside of his head. “Don’t touch me!” she’d said.

He lightly brushed the soft and silky curls off her face, half expecting her to move when his fingers brushed against her skin but she didn’t.

 

_ Maker please…  _

 

Cullen’s eyes roamed over her silent features. The skin under her dust covered cheeks looked too pale. He lightly feline shaped eyes with the thick black lashes closed shut. A thin trickle of blood steadily flowed out of her slightly parted pale lips, running over her chin and dropping into a tiny pool onto the ground.

 

Cullen carefully cupped her cheek with his large hand and wiped away the blood at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her skin felt incredibly soft to his sword roughened fingers and there was a subtle tingling in the back of his mind the moment he touched her. No it was a sound, a soft singing, a melody.

 

_ She is alive…  _

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2 A Herald?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should let you know that Cullen (27) and Kira (25) are younger than in the game, because otherwise they will have grey hair until I’m finished with them :D

_“Run!”_

_Kira spun her head around.The nightmarish figures chasing her up the steep hill catched up quickly, too quickly._

_She already felt their sharp claws snapping and clawing at the back of her heels. She knew she couldn’t outrun them, but still she tried._

_The sound of her own heartbeat thrashing inside her ears drowned out every other noise._

_Her laboured breathing quickened when she stumbled, almost losing her balance in her haste to reach the top of the hill, to reach the brightly glowing figure waiting for her. She was almost there. Almost._

_The figure held out a hand and Kira flung herself forward to grab it._  

_“Warn them!”_

_She felt herself being pushed into a bright green light._

_And then she was falling, endlessly falling, through a world of nightmares and screams and wicked laughter._

 

Kira woke up suddenly, gasping for air. She was trembling violently, fighting against the nightmare that kept holding on to her in with a relentless grip.

 

She still heard the screaming inside her head, the terrible high pitched noises of pure terror, and her hands flew up to cover her ears in a futile attempt to drown them out.

 

She was awake wasn’t she? Why didn’t it stop? She didn’t want to see it, she didn’t want to witness the suffering, she didn’t want to relive that night.

 

Her fingernails dug into her skin, clawing at her scalp as if trying to tear out the images, the memory.

 

_Make it stop! Please make it stop!_

 

She begged and slowly, very slowly, the screaming began to fade and her vision cleared.

 

She was sitting bolt upright in a large bed inside a small wooden cottage. Relaxing her grip on her hair, she glanced down at her trembling hands.

 

The greenish Mark on her left hand had lost most of its intensity, but she still felt the strange magic that corsed through her veins. Throwing her magic of balance.

She looked around still shaking. The room she found herself in was bathed in warm sunlight filtering through a small window beside the bed. The walls were lined with bookshelves, a cupboard and chest.

 

Right beside the bed stood a sturdy looking chair with neatly folded clothes and a warm looking leather mantle draped across its back. At the opposite side of the room was a small table with a large wooden bowl atop and towel folded beside it.

 

She stood up, crossing the room to the bowl to find it filled with clear water, the surface so smooth that it formed a mirror in which she could see her own reflection.

 

Still breathing rapidly she hesitated a moment before she met her own deep blue eyes.

 

The terror and pain of what she had to witness in her dreams was clearly visible in their depths.

 

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her magic, it was harder than before, probably because of that damn mark on her hand. After a moment though, her magic stirred and wrapped around her like a soothing blanket. Her breathing slowed down and her racing heart stopped pounding painfully against her ribcage.

 

When she opened her eyes again the deep azure color had transferred into a much lighter one, an arctic blue that effectively concealed what she did not want others to see, her real self.

 

She didn’t really know how she did it but she had learned this, simple trick, a very long time ago, when she’d been forced to hide her thoughts and feelings, and moreover, her magic from the Templars.

 

She took the hairbrush that lay beside the bowl and began to comp through her dark red curls, the simple tasked meant to distract her thoughts even further.

 

When she was done with her hair she reached for the small cloth that hung over the edge of the bowl and started to clean herself up. With every stroke of the wet cloth against her clammy skin she washed away the memories, the dreams and all thoughts of her past until she finally felt in control of herself again.

 

Kira was in the middle of toweling herself dry when she heard a cluttering noise and the shattering of glass behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around to find a young elven woman in simple brown servants clothing and short cropped tawny hair, standing rigid in the middle of the small room.

 

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear.” the elven girl squeaked, her already huge eyes went even wider when her gaze roamed over Kira’s half naked body, lingering on the several long scars that wound up like snakes from her belly to her hips and waist in almost artfully curved lines.

 

Kira quickly covered them up with the towel and blinked in surprise when the girl dropped to her knees, mumbling apologies and begging her for forgiveness and even more surprising, for her blessing.

 

Why in all Thedas would a servant want her blessing? What for? She wasn’t part of the Chantry, nor did she want to be. For all she cared they could rot in the fade with all their teachings and blessings and restrictions. She decided that she must have misheard the last part.

 

“Where am I?” she asked the still kneeling girl.

 

“You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing. Just like the Mark on your hand.”

She glanced down at the mark as the memories of what had happened came rushing back. The Pride Demon. The fighting. The sickening green light of the looming rift. The handsome Templar and his outstretched hand while golden eyes regarded her. The rage that had filled her, enveloped her. The magic running through her, clashing against the rift. The sense of falling. The feeling of rough but gentle fingers on her skin and strong arms lifting her up before she’d drifted off into blissful nothingness.

 

“It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days” the elf continued.

 

_Three days?_

 

Her eyes focused again on the kneeling elf on the floor.

 

“You say it’s over? That we are safe?” she asked slowly growing irritated by the elves behaviour.

 

“The Breach is still in the sky, but that's what they say.” replied the elf dutifully, her eyes never leaving the floor. Oh this was ridiculous!

 

“Stand up silly girl! Why are you kneeling before me?” she snapped.

 

The girl jumped to her feet as if struck by lightning and bolted toward the door.

 

“I’m sorry.” Kira apologized quickly, before the girl reached the door. She had so many questions. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’re awake. She said: At once.” the girl almost squeaked, her hand already on the doorknob.

 

“And where can I find her?” Kira asked politely. She didn’t want to frighten the silly little thing any more than she’d obviously already had.

 

“In the Chantry with The Lord Chancellor.“ replied the elf. “At once, she said.”

 

The elf flung the door open, letting in a cold breeze of mountain air that made Kira shiver, and fled.

 

Kira shook her head and went over to the chair beside the bed. The neatly folded clothes weren’t her own, but then, neither were the travelling clothes she’d worn on the road to the conclave.

 

She shrugged and got dressed in the very well made dark brown breeches made of buckskin. She had to hop like a bunny around the room several times to get into the tight fitting leather, yet they still felt very comfortable once she got them over her well formed behind. Whoever had chosen them had made a very good guess about her size, so she wasn’t surprised when the blue colored wool shirt fitted her equally as well.

 

The tailored dark brown mantle however, looked a little strange on her. Its unusual cut, short in front but almost reaching her knees on the back, definitely needed some improvement.

 

She rummaged around until she found a long strap of blue silken cloth that she wrapped tightly around her waist and hips, binding the ends together above her left hipbone and letting the rest cascade like a waterfall down to her tigh.  

 

At last she slipped into the soft leather boots, she’d found near the door, fastening the metal straps on either side almost up to her knees.

 

A small smile crossed her face when she ran her hands over the new outfit. She’d never worn something so nice, something that wasn’t a Circle robe. It gave her a feeling of freedom she’d never had before. Maybe there was a chance, now that she’d closed the rift, that these people would let her go? Could she even dare to hope such a thing?

 

She sighed deeply on her way to the door. If she wanted to find out she had to talk to Cassandra first or… The girl had said the Seeker was at the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. What if they planned to hand her over to the Chantry, now that the threat was over?  

 

Her fingers froze on the doorknob at the last thought. Maybe she shouldn’t go there. Maybe she should run. Maybe they’ve placed guards on the other side of the door. They wouldn’t allow a Mage to run around unchecked would they?

 

She placed a hand on the door, feeling the rough wooden texture against her soft fingertips. She couldn’t feel nor hear the discorded song of lyrium that usually accompanied the Templars. So at least they hadn’t send one of them to guard her. That was a relieve.  

 

She opened the door slowly to peak through a small slit between it and the frame. There was no one there to guard the door, at least not in plain sight. Still she hesitated before stepping cautiously outside into the cool mountain air and the warm sunlight.

 

There were no guards in front of the cottage for sure, but nothing in Thedas could have prepared her for this sight.

 

Her gaze swept over the crowd that had gathered in front of the little cottage and further lining up the street that lead to the Chantry. Even if she wanted to run, this made it impossible.

 

Whispers rose from the people regarding her and an uneasy feeling spread over her. Why were they looking at her? What were they doing in front of the cottage?   

 

“That’s her!” she heard someone call near the frontline and almost flinched.

 

“Maker be praised!” another added.

 

“It’s the Herald of Andraste.” a woman standing near the porch whispered in something that sounded very much like awe.

 

_The Herald of WHAT?!_

 

Someone better had a _very good_ explanation for _this_ insanity!


End file.
